


Snark = Regret

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [127]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BAMF!Dr. Iplier, BAMF!Host, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dr. Iplier Needs to Learn When to Shut Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gun Violence, Hemophilia, Hostage Situations, Magic, Sarcasm, Tension, tied-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-10 03:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: When a group of dangerous, armed people storm the hospital and take the entire staff hostage, tact and caution arevital.Unfortunately, Dr. Iplier doesn't know how to keep his mouthshut.
Relationships: Bim Trimmer/The King of the Squirrels, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, Googleplier/Bingiplier, The Host/Dr. Iplier
Series: The Ego Manor [127]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1166384
Comments: 50
Kudos: 296





	Snark = Regret

**Author's Note:**

> This one is kind of heavy and tense, with no chapter breaks because my brain just shot forward writing this one, just a heads up!

Dr. Iplier laughed, sitting in the hospital’s break room, and gripping onto Henrik’s shoulder for dear life as he told bad jokes and undoubtably made fun of him in German. To get back at him and make him _flush _like an _idiot_, Dr. Iplier playfully flirted with one of the male nurses in the break room (and it _was _playful, he’d bought himself a matching silver promise ring that the Host had been more than happy to slip on his finger, and it was _very _obvious against his tanned skin), making outrageous comments that had the whole room in stitches while Henrik attempted to become one with the couch, hiding his face in a throw pillow.

He waved one hand at Dr. Iplier, ‘accidentally’ smacking him in the jaw and making him bust out in laughter. “Alright, alright, I get it! You can shut up now!” He lowered the throw pillow just in time to catch Dr. Iplier and the nurse – Matt, his name was – wink at each other in a huge, over-the-top fashion that would’ve made Bim proud. Dr. Iplier almost feared that Henrik would have a stroke with the _dark red_ he abruptly became. “Oh _come on!_”

Dr. Iplier laughed, ruffling Henrik’s hair and snickering at his grumble and accompanying scowl. “You should know by now that I always win, Henrik! There’s no stopping me!” He winked at Matt again. “Matt, I thank you for your assistance in bringing this German bastard to his knees.”

Matt chuckled, bowing low. “I look forward to working with you again, doctor!”

Dr. Iplier snorted, then stood, grabbing his paper cup of coffee (he should ask Wilford if he wouldn’t mind sneaking a better machine in here) and moving toward the door. “Well, my break’s almost up. I better get back to my office before –”

He was cut off by a loud crackling of intercom static, _painfully _loud. He winced, not quite caring that he dropped his coffee in favor of covering his ears. A quick glance around revealed that the five others in the room (besides Henrik and Matt, there were two more nurses and another doctor) had done the same. The noise faded, and Dr. Iplier hesitantly lowered his hands a little. “What the fuck?!”

The intercom crackled again, this time with a high-pitched, alarm-like noise, and Dr. Iplier’s hands quickly returned to his ears, doubling over a little, and a few of the others cried out.

_Everyone’s _blood ran cold when a voice came shouting over the intercom.

_“All staff get down in the _fucking _lobby! I don’t give a _fuck _if you’re taking care of some fucking _patient_, I’m not fucking around! If I find out someone’s still hiding away, they’re gonna get a bullet in their head!”_

The intercom clicked off, and not two seconds later three gunshots rang throughout the hospital.

Dr. Iplier snapped to his senses first, the others too shocked to move. He threw open the door, revealing the flood of people beginning to make their way to the elevators and stairs. “Go go go!” He ushered them out the door, starting a bit when Henrik grabbed his arm and refused to budge from his side. His face was pale, drained of color, and his eyes were wide and terrified.

Dr. Iplier tried for a smile, covering the Septic’s hand with his own for a brief moment before he dragged him out the door, joining the masses. The crowd pushed them to the stairwell, filing down the floors to ground zero and the lobby. The people were mostly mute with terror, but there were hushed whispers rippling through the crowd. Henrik nudged him, still gripping tight to his arm, and whispered to him as well. “Why do you think they are here? What do they want?”

Dr. Iplier gave an honest shrug. “I don’t know. I just hope they didn’t shoot anyone earlier.”

Henrik paled further, and he swallowed harshly, turning to face straight ahead and shifting to closer to Dr. Iplier’s side.

The stairwell doors opened up before them, and immediately Dr. Iplier was yanked away from Henrik, his hands forced behind him and what felt like a ziptie pulled tight around his wrists, digging into his skin. He yelped, jolting a little in place and attempting to pull away from whoever grabbed him. “_Hey! _Watch it!”

He was spun around, suddenly staring dead into a pair of green eyes, the rest of their face obscured by a black ski mask, and his snarky words were rewarded with a sharp backhand across the face.

He cried out, head whipping to the side and ears ringing, but they didn’t let him go. Rather, they began to rummage around in his pockets while he was too dazed to resist much, making a triumphant noise when they pulled out his phone. They tossed it into a pile of what must’ve been _hundreds _of others before spinning him back around and shoving him hard in the back, sending him stumbling away.

Dr. Iplier took a moment to regain his balance, then whirled around himself just in time to see them grab Henrik and give him the same treatment (minus the bitch-slap). “Hey, fuck you, too, pal!” He waited for Henrik to be able to rejoin him and stubbornly ignoring the scathing glares he got from the attackers – there were a couple more by the elevators ‘taking care’ of those people coming off.

At last, Henrik reached his side, and Dr. Iplier finally allowed himself to be guided by the crowd to the lobby. “What is _wrong_ with you,” Henrik hissed, tone sharp. “You have _no idea_ what they could’ve done to you! What were you _thinking?!_”

“I can take care of myself, Henrik,” he whispered back. “This isn’t my first time in a hostage situation.”

Henrik’s eyes blew wide. “_What?!_”

“_Yes_, and I’ll tell you the story later when we get out of here alive!”

Henrik’s face fell. “You mean ‘_if’_.”

Dr. Iplier shook his head. “No, definitely ‘_when_’. You know the news’ll be crawling all over this, and the second our families here about it, they’re going to be busting down the front door themselves, I guarantee it.”

That seemed to relax Henrik a bit, his shoulders dropping. “Okay. That is true.”

Dr. Iplier smiled. “Right! For now, let’s just play nice and blend in.”

He was surprised by the Septic’s snort. “Judging by the earlier display, I doubt you can keep your mouth shut long enough.”

Dr. Iplier just grinned and winked.

They entered the lobby. The hospital was _massive_, and the lobby might as well have been an airport it was so big. Which is just as well, because with a hospital _that _big, there was a _lot _of staff. And they were all being piled in there.

Dr. Iplier and Henrik were ushered into the first row (with a bright red mark rapidly appearing on Dr. Iplier’s cheek). They were being organized into a wide semi-circle, and someone was standing in the middle. Dressed in all black like his – definitely male, going by his build – friends, but his ski mask was a bright red and the gun that was undoubtably the source of the shots held loosely in his hand at his side.

Dr. Iplier shifted uncomfortably on his knees as the last of the people trickled in, Main Man’s friends joining him; there was four of them in total. He drew his mouth in a tight line, leaning over to Henrik and opening his mouth to say something – decidedly _ignoring _the panicked looks he was sending him – but then Main Man raised his gun, spinning around to gesture widely to all of them. Any possible whispers were instantly quieted as a collective flinch ran through the hospital staff.

“_Listen up_,” he shouted, voice carrying admittedly impressively and still waving around the gun. “I don’t want to hurt anyone I don’t have to! I just want _one _of you! Now if any of you can tell me which one of you is Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, I’d like to put a bullet or two in his chest and be on my way!”

The entire room stopped breathing, and no one said a _word_. Dr. Iplier stiffened, his heart stuttering in his chest, and he risked a glance at Henrik. If he thought he was pale earlier, he was _deathly_ so now, his blue eyes dull and glassy with unshed tears, and he was trembling so bad Dr. Iplier shifted closer in order to press up against him in what he hoped was reassuring.

With the deafening silence reigning, Main Man was obviously beginning to get twitchy. Dr. Iplier couldn’t help but wince when the gun shook in his hand, and he spun around again. “If someone doesn’t speak up, I’m just gonna start shooting into the crowd! One bullet for every minute that ticks by! Starting in three…two…o –”

“He’s not here!” Dr. Iplier did his best not to shrink when all four attackers wheeled on him. “You just missed him, actually. Out for lunch I’m afraid.”

Main Man narrowed his eyes. He trained the gun on his him, and Dr. Iplier’s eyes locked onto it, swallowing harshly. His gaze flicked away for a brief moment as Main Man nodded to one of his friends, and they were stalking over. Dr. Iplier recognized the green eyes from earlier, and leaned back as much as he dared when Greeny reached for him. “Hey hey hey, wait – _ow!_”

He cried out, kicking wildly and screwing his eyes shut, when Greeny fisted a hand in his hair and began dragging him toward the middle of the semi-circle. Without the use of his hands to grip onto Greeny’s wrist and relieve even the _smallest _bit of pressure, it _really _fucking hurt, and Dr. Iplier couldn’t but make small noises of pain throughout the trip.

At last, he was deposited at Main Man’s feet, his forehead practically touching the floor and shaking a little, breathing hard. He instantly stiffened, however, when he felt the cold press of the gun against the back of his neck. “And how do _you _know that he’s not here?”

Dr. Iplier risked glancing over his shoulder and up at his attacker. Though he unfortunately couldn’t keep the ‘_well duh’ _tone from his voice. “Uh, because I was with him?”

Main Man narrowed his eyes again. “And why should I believe you?”

Dr. Iplier scoffed. “The guy’s my best friend, ask literally anyone else here. I came back before him because my break ends sooner and I wanted to call my partner and talk to him for a bit before I went back to work.”

Main Man visibly swallowed, straightening himself and pulling the gun away from Dr. Iplier’s neck, much to his relief. “So he’s really not here?”

Dr. Iplier straightened as well, staring Main Man dead in the eye and smiling ruefully. “Afraid not. He’s probably outside, though. You’re welcome to go out and check, right into the arms of the police that are undoubtably _swarming _out there.”

Main Man scowled, and suddenly a throbbing _pain _was blossoming in Dr. Iplier as he was kicked_ hard _in the chest, sending him sprawling. He coughed harshly, groaning a little, and before he shifted back to his knees he risked another glance at Henrik. He looked _beyond _terrified, but there was gratitude in his eyes as well.

“_Or_,” Dr. Iplier started, voice tight as he struggled to push himself back to his knees, “you never know. Maybe _I’m _him, and I’ve been lying through my teeth this whole time.”

One of Main Man’s friends scoffed, crossing their arms. “That’s a German name. You don’t look German.”

Dr. Iplier let out a breathless little laugh. “Oh, so now you’re all racists _and _absolute _bastards_. Then again, I didn’t expect much from a group who didn’t even have the common sense to look up a picture of the damn guy they’re after.”

His reply was rewarded with another sharp kick, this one planted to his back, and hard enough to have his forehead cracking against the floor. He swore violently, breathing heavily and whining as his vision went fuzzy and his ears rang. “_Shit_…”

He squirmed when Main Man – it _had _to be – planted a foot on the back of his head, keeping him pinned to the floor. “You know, I’m half-tempted to shoot you right here and move along for that.”

Dr. Iplier scoffed again, trying to cover the way his words trembled. “Oh yes, _please _do. Because everyone else will be _so _receptive to what you want and absolutely _not _go into a horrified shock if you slaughter me here in cold blood.”

There was a brief pressure against his skull that had him squirming again as Main Man added more of his weight, but then it was gone and he was able to breathe easier, lifting his head despite the pounding headache and the black little stars that still dotted his vision. “If I may ask…” he began, attempting to blink the spots away. “Why _do _you want Henrik? You know, just so I have a reason for your insatiable blood lust for my best friend.”

Main Man’s grip on the gun tightened, and Dr. Iplier’s breath hitched, fearing he finally took it too far as the gun was hefted to rest not even an _inch _from his forehead. But then Main Man drew a shuddering breath and spoke, grip tightening again. “He _killed _my wife.”

Immediately, Dr. Iplier’s body language relaxed, his expression softening. He was a bit startled at the word ‘wife’ (sometimes he forgot straight people existed, though he decided against saying that one aloud with a gun a hair’s width from his head), but he smiled all the same. “Okay. Revenge thing. I get it. I don’t…I don’t know _what _I’d do if my S.O. died. But, doctors and surgeons and nurses as we may be, we can’t save everyone. Sometimes, it’s beyond our control. And _trust me_, it breaks out hearts just as much as it breaks yours.”

The gun lowered a little, and Main Man tilted his head. “I saw your ring. You married, too?”

Dr. Iplier’s smile grew. “Not yet. Hope to be someday, though.”

The gun lowered a little more, and Dr. Iplier almost thought that humanizing himself to this man _worked _(the one semi-useful piece of information he learned from watching dumbass crime dramas with Reynolds), but then Main Man was lifting it again and shaking his head. “No…he _killed _her, so _I _need to kill _him_. A life for a life. That’s…that’s how this is supposed to go.”

Dr. Iplier couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “Look man, you’re not getting out of this alive, shooting Henrik or me or otherwise. Those doors are glass, you and I _both _can see the police out there. I know for a _fact _two overprotective demons are on their way here, and they’re going to rip you to _shreds_. You might as well give it up!”

Main Man snarled. “I’m getting _real _tired of your mouth. Unless you’re actually going to be _useful_, you can _shut up_.”

Dr. Iplier raised an eyebrow. “Yes, because I’m going to _willingly guide you to my best friend _and _watch _as you put a _bullet in his chest_. A better use of my time would be telling you to get the _fuck _out of my hospital, because I have a woman dying of pneumonia upstairs who’s rattling lungs are more appealing than your voice, and who I would _much _rather interact with than you. So you can sh –”

He didn’t get through his sentence. A gunshot echoed painfully loud in the silent lobby, and Dr. Iplier’s eyes shot wide, choking on his words. His breathing was worryingly shallow. He glanced down, at the red pool that was _rapidly_ spreading below him, trembling violently. The bullet had sheared straight through the meat of his left thigh, and looking behind him revealed the bullet itself embedded in the tile, having gone right through his leg. It didn’t hit anything important, the angle and placement didn’t even allow it to clip bone.

That said, it still _fucking _hurt.

Dr. Iplier _screamed_, curling onto his side, and not quite caring that he was essentially face-planting into a pool of his own blood because it was _hard _to care when his leg was on _fire_. He was dimly aware of the horrified gasps that rang through the crowd – none louder than Henrik’s – but what he _could _hear clearly was Main Man’s voice, speaking to his friends. “Gag him. Tie his ankles, too, then dump him back where you got him from.”

Dr. Iplier didn’t have the strength to fight the three others as they did what was commanded of them. One of them pulled off one of his shoes and sock, stuffing the blood-soaked material into his mouth, and another wrapped the lower half of his face in duct tape. The third one ziptied his ankles together, and then they were dragging him back to Henrik (leaving his shoe behind, his pain-delirious mind latched onto) and leaving a bloody trail in their wake from Dr. Iplier’s limp body.

He whimpered, eyes slipping shut as he pressed his cheek to the cold tile, only half aware of the world around him. He could hear Main Man shouting again, but his words just sounded muffled and distorted. He was still breathing _far _too shallowly, he _knew _that, in the back of his mind, but it was hard to focus and _care _when the most indescribable _pain _he’d ever experienced was taking over his body like poison.

“_Iplier!_”

He shifted his head a bit in the vague direction of Henrik’s hissed whisper, unable to do much else. The pain was _growing, _it was getting _worse_, he couldn’t _focus_ –

“Iplier, stay with me! You can’t pass out, stay awake, okay? Please?”

Henrik’s voice sounded panicked, a tremor in his words. Why was he so scared? Dr. Iplier dimly realized he must be going into shock, because suddenly everything was _numb _and he was _so tired_…

“Hey you!”

Dr. Iplier cracked one eye open – nearly throwing up at the sight of his own blood laid out before him _oh God _– when Main Man called out again. He was staring straight at Henrik, gun pointed at him. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “What accent is that?”

Henrik went stiff, glancing around wildly. He was caught. Dr. Iplier knew that. He stalled and distracted as best he could, but in the end they _still _found him. And all because of his _voice_.

Through blurry vision clouded with tears and pain, Dr. Iplier saw Henrik shrink, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. “I…”

Main Man’s eyes narrowed further, but before he could pull the trigger, the lights began flickering madly, a loud, buzzing static filling the air and causing Dr. Iplier to whimper pitifully. Henrik visibly slumped with relief, mumbling under his breath in German, before saying something loud enough for Dr. Iplier to hear. “It’s okay, Iplier. Anti’s here. I imagine yours are not far off. We’ll get you help soon.”

Dr. Iplier’s eyes began to slip shut again, making a small muffled noise. He was losing blood _fast_, he was _so _tired, all he could see was _red_…

The four attackers spun around, glancing up at the ceiling as the lights continued to flicker with increasing speed. Dr. Iplier couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of Main Man’s shout. “What’s happening, what the fuck is going on?!”

The lights exploded, and the hospital was plunged into darkness.

Glass rained down on the four of them (the lights above the hostages remained intact), and they yelped, scrambling for cover but finding none. And then Anti was fizzling into existence, foregoing a more humanoid form in favor of remaining a cloud of black and green static. The only things Dr. Iplier could pick out of the mass were his eyes; they glowed a brilliant, sickly green, lighting up the area where he stood.

Anti scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing to _slits _when he spotted the pair of them, and he wheeled on the four attackers, suddenly wielding his knife. In the blink of an eye, he was standing directly in front of them, all huddled together and the gun shaking in Main Man’s grasp. In a flash, Anti’s knifetip was pressing against Main Man’s throat, his forked tongue poking out in a snake-like hiss. “D͚̄o͉n̹͂'̠̿t̲̍.̜̌ ̙̐_M͇̈o̎͟v͍̽é̢_.̗̈”

He backed off, leaving the four shaking in the middle of the semi-circle, and he _sprinted _toward Henrik, eyes suddenly wide with distress. His form became a little more human, the wound at his throat suddenly visible and weeping openly, and he grabbed Henrik’s face, brushing the hair from the younger Septic’s eyes and checking him over. “Ä̳́r̥̄e͓̾ ͕̍y̜̚o̙̐ṷ̈ ͔o̟k̝͒a͕̕ÿ̯,̜͠ ͇̅ȁ͕r̛̪e͓̓ ̤̅y̩͒ọ̇u̪͝ ̢͋ h̢͒u̜͗r̘͞t͉͑?̦̒ ̭̒W̡͞ḛ̚ ̤͠ť͢r̲̎i̍͟e̻̓d͚̐ ̩̅g͈͋e͍͘t̮t̲̔i̙͌n͇͌g̛̬ ̞͘i̯̿ṉ͞ ̺̆h̎ͅẽ̞ȑ̦e̞͊ ̘͡s̘͘ȍ͓o̬̍n̤͂e͙͞r̺̚,̝͋ ̱̒b̓͢û̝t̟̾ ͙ṭ͠h̳̒e̘͡ ̫̌p͓̉ǒ̝l̖͆i̯c̩͗e̫̔ ͔̽ẃ̖e͖͆r̤̚ē̠ ͇̀_r̹͝ë͙ȁ̞l̫͌l̦͠y͉̓_ ̧̇i͎͆n̖̑ ̧̿t̩̃h̛̟e̫͆ ͘ͅw͈a̺̔y̛̘ ̖̏a̞̓n̞͐d̼͋ ̮͆t̪͗h̦͆e̤̐y̠͗ ͔̀w̭̌o͔͘u̘͐l̮̅d͕̆ñ̰'̺̆t͖́ ̤̽l̛ͅe̱̎ṫ͇ ͊͟u̫͂s̝̆ ̿ͅā̱n̼͊y̔͢w̧͑h̗̀é͜r̄͟e̘͡ ̬̓_n̢̈́ẹ́a̫̋r̩̓_ ͋ͅt͇͂ȟ̳e̤̅ ̰̋b̗͌ů̮īͅl̗͗d͚́ǐ̘ṅ̜g̐ͅ.͉͠ ̝͒_F͕̎u̯͂c͐͟k̮̅_,̩͗ ̖̋t̮̃h̜͘a̰̓ẗ͈́'̗̐s͓͑ ̤ā̖ ̫̓l̢̐o̝̍t̫͌ ̹̐ȏ͉f̖ ̧͂b̬͆l̎͢o̼͝o͖̾d͙̾.͕̐.̮̿.̢̍”

Henrik smiled, tears springing to his eyes as he leaned forward to press his forehead to Anti’s. “I’m fine, Anti. None of the blood is mine.” His body stiffened, and he glanced back at Dr. Iplier, pulling away. Dr. Iplier’s eyes were beginning to glaze, his breathing still far too heavy and shallow as blood continued to soak into his pants and flow onto the floor around him. “He needs help. He should be the only one injured though.”

Anti nodded, running a hand through Henrik’s hair again before turning back to the door, at the shifting black mass outside. “_Ḏa͍͊r̡͂k̤̾!͓̎_ ̗͊G̢͒e͍̕ț̄ ̻̈́t͉̅h͇́e̢ ̗͞_f͓̚ǘ͙c̻̋ḳ̿_ ͓̀ȉ̺n̠̈ ̳͒h̤̏e̲͂r̛͈e̖!̙͝”

Even in Dr. Iplier’s hazy, in-and-out of consciousness state, he could see the flashes of red and blue that rolled through what could only be Dark’s aura wrapped around the hospital. The doors opened, but it wasn’t Dark who stepped through; the Host burst in with his trench coat whipping around him and his aura snapping and lashing out wildly, blood painting his face and the front of his clothes. His head whipped in Dr. Iplier’s direction, and Dr. Iplier perked up a little, lifting his head marginally from the pool of blood. The Host tensed, lips parting in a horrified gasp, and then he was _wheeling _on the four people in the center, aura whipping around him as he stormed forward with the fury of a god.

The four cowered before him as the Host stopped short. “Get up.” When they didn’t comply, the Host grabbed Main Man by the shirt collar, hefting him to his feet. He split in a terrifying smile, blood painting his teeth red in a gory display. “It would be in Michael Reed’s best interest to _listen _to the Host, if he would like to make it out of this hospital alive.”

He ripped off Main Man’s – Michael, apparently – mask, revealing a terrified man with bright red hair and covered in freckles. He swallowed harshly as the Host’s aura curled around him, gripping onto his wrists with – judging by his wince – a vice-like grip. “H-h-how do you know my name?”

The Host’s smile grew, stepping forward a little and completely invading Michael’s space. “The Host knows many things. For example, he knows that Michael’s childhood dog’s name was Poppy. He knows that Michael lives only a few short blocks from the hospital, in a rented apartment. And…” He stepped forward more, tearing his own bandages off his face and leaving his empty, bleeding sockets open to the elements, prompting forth a horrified, violent gagging noise from the man currently trapped in his spiderweb. “…he knows that Michael _shot _the _one being _the Host loves more than anything.”

Michael swallowed again, eyes flicking to Dr. Iplier bleeding out on the floor. “I-I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t –”

The Host cut him off with a scoff. “_Please_. Begging is unbecoming.”

And with that, the Host punched him in the jaw.

Michael _crumpled_, out cold, and the Host wasted no time in racing to Dr. Iplier’s side, his entire demeanor shifting. He crouched down beside Dr. Iplier, and behind him Dr. Iplier could see Silver and Jackie flying through Dark’s aura, beginning to flit among the crowd and cutting people free, guiding them out the door. The Host pressed a hand to his cheek, mumbling something soft under his breath, then began to pick at the duct tape, peeling it away painlessly, and pulling Dr. Iplier’s ruined sock from his mouth as he spoke again. “…Is Dr. Iplier alright?”

Dr. Iplier tried for a smile, but he began coughing instead, shivering violently as he struggled to breathe. “J-j-just peachy. You know, aside from the hole in my leg.”

The Host gave a strained laugh, his own blood dripping onto the floor and mingling with Dr. Iplier’s. His face fell, and he turned to Henrik, who had been cut free by Anti, and both Septics hovering at Dr. Iplier’s side. “The Host is…unsure of what to do. He does not think he can heal a wound this severe, and…” He swallowed harshly, his hand still pressed to Dr. Iplier’s cheek and his thumb massaging his cheekbone.

Henrik nodded, standing shakily with Anti supporting him with a hand on his elbow. “Come, we need to get him somewhere cleaner and more comfortable.”

“There should be an empty room just down the hall,” a nearby nurse piped up, staring with undisguised concern at Dr. Iplier’s leg. “You can take him there, first door on your right.”

Henrik smiled at her, gesturing to Anti to cut her free. “Thank you.”

The Host slipped his arms under Dr. Iplier’s limp body, lifting him up and they both shuddered at the sound of blood dripping off him and splashing into the pool below. Dr. Iplier gasped harshly, making a distressed, pained noise as the Host unavoidably caused pressure to his wound, eyes rolling back in his head and fluttering shut, chest heaving. The Host followed Henrik as they hurried away, Anti still trailing after them.

Henrik pushed open the door, and the Host was quick to set Dr. Iplier on the bed. He was still shivering violently, his hair sticking to his forehead with both sweat and blood as he whined. He opened his eyes again, head limply turning to face the others, his vision unfocused and blurred. He saw Henrik hold out his hand. “Anti, let me see your knife.”

Anti passed it over without question, and Henrik set about cutting Dr. Iplier’s wrists and ankles free. The zipties had dug painfully into the skin of his one bare ankle and that of his wrists, leaving angry red lines embedded in his skin that may have been bleeding but none of them could tell with the sheer amount that was soaked into his clothes and drenched the rest of him. The Host held his hand and Henrik then began to cut away his pant leg, peeling away the sticky denim as gently as he could to reveal the wound itself. Despite his carefulness, Dr. Iplier still cried out, squeezing the Host’s hand and sobbing brokenly, kicking out his leg a bit.

Henrik made a distressed noise himself, squeezing Dr. Iplier’s arm. “I know, I know, but it will be over soon. The bullet went straight through, so that is good. I just need to stop the bleeding and stitch you up, okay?”

Dr. Iplier groaned, tears pouring down his face and eyes screwed shut. He felt the Host press a kiss to his forehead, and then he was moving away, letting go over Dr. Iplier’s hand. “Wait. The Host would like to try to heal. And he _knows _he can at least stop the bleeding.”

“By all means, go ahead! I have a feeling your hands vould be much more welcome than my needle.”

Despite the warning and the Host’s soothing, gentle words washing over him, Dr. Iplier couldn’t help but _scream_ and cry out as the Host’s hands came to gently rest on either point of his wound, cupping his thigh between them. The burning _fire _that consumed him before spread through his body rapidly once again, his hands flailing and weakly jolting his leg in an attempting to shake the Host off. He let out another broken sob as hands wrapped around his wrists, holding him still, and Henrik’s voice was only just audible, like he was standing at the far end of a tunnel. “Anti! Hold down his ankles, let the Host work!”

When Anti touched him, a staticky feeling like pins and needles rushed up his legs, and the already uncomfortable sensation grew _agonizing_, burning and prickling around his wound like white-hot needles digging into his skin. He screamed again, tossing his head from side to side and saying something unintelligible to even his own ears. He went boneless, breathing heavily, when Anti backed off. “I̬̐'̣͋m̬̓ ̳̓o̦̓n͖̊l̝̈ẏ̘ ̱̔h͇͞u̗̐r̼͘t͈̐i̹͛ṋ̚ǧ͎ ͕̅ḫ̓i̱̋m͖͗ ̡̅m̨͐o̪͐r̠͂e͕͒.͔͆ ̢̚W̪e̖̅ ̙͆s͕͛ĥ̙o̖͒ṳ͒l̤̔d̦͂ ̘͒g̟͐e̦̽ț̑ ̢̅o͈͊n̠̎e͚͑ ̬̎o̫͋f̜̽ ̔ͅh̥i̺͘ś̥ ̮̓ő̻w̦̓n̫͞ ̙͆i̹̋ň̖ ͙̐ h̤̆e̲͠r̤͆ẻ͍ ̍͢i̢ṅ̯s̢͛t̥̍e͖͗a̝̎d̹͐.͎̐”

“We don’t have time! It is a necessary evil for now.”

Anti’s hands returned, but Dr. Iplier didn’t have the strength to fight now even as the painful sensation quickly overtook him. All the while, the Host muttered furiously under his breath, his hands pressed firmly over both sides of the wound in an attempt to add pressure and stop the bleeding as he worked. Eventually, Dr. Iplier stopped making noise all together, just gasped and sobbed and twitched in place.

At last, the Host pulled back, stumbling a little with his aura still wisping around him and the blood flow increased _greatly _from his exposed sockets. Dr. Iplier opened his eyes, the world blurry and fuzzy before him, and he tugged weakly at Henrik’s hold on his wrists. “Henrik…help him. He…he n-n-needs the shot…a-and new bandages…”

The Host attempted to smile at him, laughing a little. “Dr. Iplier can take one moment to not worry about the Host. The Host is fine.”

Dr. Iplier rolled his eyes, smiling a little back. “No you’re not.”

Henrik let go of him, bustling about the Host instead and doing as Dr. Iplier asked. After telling him where the clotting shot was located to help with the Host’s hemophilia, Anti vanished into the walls, reappearing moments later with a syringe in hand, an item quickly jabbed into the Host’s neck. As Henrik set about cleaning him up and dressing his sockets, he shot a hard glare in Dr. Iplier’s direction. “You know, none of this would have been necessary if you just knew how to keep your _Verdammten_ mouth shut.”

Dr. Iplier laughed deliriously, but quickly winced when he shifted his leg a bit. “You moron, I’d rather be miserable and limp around for a few months than have _you_ bleeding out in the lobby with a bullet in your chest.”

At that, Anti (who had been more or less leaning against the wall awkwardly with his arms crossed) stiffened, body fuzzing a bit. “_W̢h̹̄ą͑ť̻.͐͢_”

Henrik hunched his shoulders, finishing up the knot in the Host’s bandages. “They were here for me. Apparently, the one the Host so helpfully knocked unconscious had a wife who was one of the few people I’ve lost in surgery. He wanted revenge.”

Dr. Iplier sighed as the Host (his aura finally gone) moved over to take his hand again, though they were slick with blood. “I tried to distract and stall as much as I could, but, unfortunately, the second Henrik opened his mouth he was caught. Had you not come blazing in when you did, you’d be treating _two _bullet wounds.”

Anti bared his fangs, a low hissing noise coming from him that Dr. Iplier couldn’t tell if it was from his static or just _him_. “E̥̒x̮̆c̱̿ṳ̐s̞͋ẻ͈ ̦̋m̮͂e͓͂.̜̐”

And he was gone.

The Host muttered something under his breath again, and Dr. Iplier let out another sigh as the blood soaking into all three of their clothes and skin vanished, and with it the sticky, uncomfortable feeling. “Dr. Iplier should rest. The Host has healed his wound for the most part, but he _will _have a _nasty _scar and be sore for a _long _time. The Host can only do so much.”

Dr. Iplier squeezed his hand. “You did _plenty_, now help me up. I want to see if everyone else is okay.”

The Host’s mouth fell open before his brow furrowed in confusion. “Did…did Dr. Iplier _not _hear what the Host _just said?_”

Dr. Iplier snorted, pushing himself upright with a groan. His chest and back were beginning to ache, most likely because of the sharp kicks he’d received. “Yes, I did, and I’m ignoring it. Come on.”

The Host turned his head to face Henrik with a bewildered expression, and Henrik just responded with a shrug. So (after the Host magicked his pants back together), the Host lifted Dr. Iplier from the bed, one arm wrapped tightly under his shoulders with Dr. Iplier gripping onto him like a lifeline. The second his feet touched the ground, he would’ve dropped like a sack of potatoes had it not been for the Host’s support. “Oh _fuck!_ I think just ‘sore’ is a little underestimated there, Host!”

The Host raised an eyebrow. “The Host still firmly believes Dr. Iplier should lie back down. This was _Dr. Iplier’s _idea.”

Dr. Iplier drew a hiss of air through his teeth. “Fuck you, I’m fine. I want to see the others.”

The Host made an exasperated noise, but pressed a kiss to the side of Dr. Iplier’s head all the same. The two of them limped out into the hall with Henrik ahead of them to open doors and guide them through the hospital. When they reached the lobby, Dr. Iplier sagged with relief at the sight of most of the staff bustling about and just fine, though the anxiety ringing through the crowd about getting back to their patients was beginning to make him twitch as well. Three of the four attackers were handcuffed and in the hands of the police, though Michael – no longer unconscious – still lay on the lobby floor. Dark had a foot planted on his chest, a murderous expression in his glowing red and blue eyes and his aura whipping about like mad. Anti was right next to him, both demons _furious_ and causing the crowd to give them a wide birth. 

“_Dr. Iplier!_”

Dark lifted his head sharply in their direction, and Dr. Iplier only had time to blink before Bing and Bim were practically bowling him and the Host over, pulling him from the Host and crushing him between them in a hug. Dr. Iplier winced heavily, struggling a bit. “Ow ow ow ow, guys, _please_, I was just beat up and shot, _get off!_”

They both flinched, pulling away and the Host slipped his arm back around him. Bing’s eyes were glowing brightly, near blinding to look at, and obvious tear tracks stained Bim’s face. Bim wiped at his eyes, then tried for a smile. “Sorry. But…you’re okay, right? Because…there was a _lot _of blood in here before Marvin magicked it away, and people said _you _were the only one injured…”

Dr. Iplier smiled back. “Yes, I’m fine. Well, relatively. Gonna have some serious bruising and apparently a nasty scar, despite the Host’s best efforts. Though –” His smile turned sheepish as he glanced at the Host. “I wouldn’t mind sitting down.”

The Host exuded such a powerful, exasperated air of rolling his eyes that Dr. Iplier couldn’t help but laugh as he carried him to one of the many benches that littered the lobby. Dr. Iplier sat down heavily, the Host at his side, and he swore violently under his breath, paler than he’d like to admit and breathing hard.

Almost immediately, he was swarmed by the other egos, all practically appearing out of thin air. Wilford sat down on his other side, his aura making one of its rare appearances and curling protectively around him. He said nothing, just placed a hand on his (uninjured) right thigh. Dark stepped forward first, his own aura curling around Dr. Iplier as he crouched down in front of him, his eyes still glowing their respective colors and _glowing _with concern. “Are you alright?”

Dr. Iplier nodded stubbornly, though he was still breathing heavily. “I’m fine. Better than I was ten minutes ago, that’s for sure.” He perked up suddenly, glancing around. “Hey, where’d Henrik go?!”

Silver wordless pointed. Henrik was currently being _crushed _between Jackie and Chase, both sobbing dramatically as Henrik grumbled and tried to escape, but then Marvin and JJ appeared and he disappeared beneath all of them, Anti and Robbie standing to the side with mildly amused expressions on both their faces.

Dr. Iplier chuckled, though it quickly turned into a whine, rubbing at his chest. Google gave him a concerned look, his eyes flashing and scanning down. His eyes narrowed. “Your ribs are bruised. As is your lower back.”

Dr. Iplier raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve told you that. Yes, they kicked me around a bit, too. I got bitch slapped by one of them. But I’m okay, I promise.”

King crossed his arms. “That does not sound ‘_okay_’.”

He wasn’t expecting it when Dark swore. “We all heard the shot outside. We would’ve been in here sooner, but not even Anti wanted to use brute strength or sudden moves in such a massive hostage situation. The shot tipped us over the edge.”

Dr. Iplier couldn’t resist closing his eyes for a moment, leaning his head onto the Host’s shoulder. “So I heard. Anti was very helpful, you know, while Henrik and the Host were fixing me up.”

He laughed as Dark’s face dropped into a scowl. “Are you telling me I actually have to _thank _that bastard?”

It was Wilford who respond with a cheeky smile, squeezing Dr. Iplier’s thigh lightly. “You don’t _have _to, love.”

Dark crinkled his nose. “Yes I do.” He straightened, adjusting his suit and staring with obvious distaste as he walked over to Anti (it didn’t help that the glitch _obviously _knew what was happening and was wearing a smug grin).

Dr. Iplier raised a suspicious eyebrow when the Jims began whispering to each other, their equipment absent for once. “…What are you two up to?”

They both jumped. “Nothing!”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes as well. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

They grinned, and one of them spoke. “Don’t worry! We just have something that’ll help at home.”

“Yeah,” the other one added. “We’ve got a whole bunch of stuff. Seriously, it’ll help.”

Dr. Iplier groaned, shifting closer to the Host. “You know what, I don’t care.” His leg was _really _beginning to hurt, despite the Host’s magic, and he shifted uncomfortably, _feeling _the blood draining from his face. “Wh…wh-what happened to the guy, the um…the one in red?”

Ed scoffed. “What do you think? Dark and Anti squished him like a bug and stuck him in the Void.”

Dr. Iplier gave a strained, high-pitched laugh, more color draining from him. Eric shot him a _very_ concerned look. “Um…a-are you okay?”

Dr. Iplier squeezed his eyes shut, panting. His voice sounded strained. “Nope. Want…I want to go home, _please_.”

Wilford squeezed his thigh again, shifting so he could reach the Host as well. “Okay, shh, it’s okay. I’ll take you two home.”

Dr. Iplier whimpered as Wilford teleported them away, and the next thing he knew he was lying in bed, the Host’s arms wrapped around him. He felt Wilford card a hand through his hair, sleep pulling at him as the Host mumbled soothing things against his shoulder, taking his pain away. “Get some sleep, doctor. We’ll take care of you.”

Dr. Iplier said nothing, simply allowed sleep to wash over him.

**Author's Note:**

> I..._really_ love this story, I do, it's awesome, and I hope you guys liked it! This story has some minor ripples through the series, in the sense that Dr. Iplier's injury is gonna be brought up over and over, so that's gonna be a thing! _I like this story_  
Anyway, Wednesday is some Bingle fluff! Real cute shit! See you then!
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


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